Show Me What You Need From Me
by DoseofReality
Summary: Darth Revan and his Jedi share an intimate moment. Mostly for the readers of my Temptation story, to show I'm not dead, and I have written some things - and I think they deserve some satisfaction in this area. It's the same Darth Revan and Bastila Shan from Temptation.


Revan looked down into those stormy eyes that had come to hold such comfort to him in times of his own inner turmoil. Now, they burned with a fire he couldn't place; Bastila had a way of embodying pure passion in a manner he could not keep up with. She was looking up at him expectantly – she had demanded he explain himself – her body not tense, but ready for action of some kind. Pent up, perhaps. Again, he was unsure. She made him doubt everything he knew about her so often because she so often surprised him. He knew what he wanted but he wasn't sure how to tell her. For all his charisma and eloquence, speaking to Bastila frankly and honestly about himself was the hardest thing he could attempt to do. Taking a breath and settling on the words, the Dark Lord opened his mouth.

"Show me what you need from me," he murmured, eyes searching out acceptance for this course of action in her eyes and face. Revan knew this was best for him; talking only left room for misinterpretation.

Bastila's slender brows furrowed for a few seconds, trying to figure what he meant. Her face smoothed and she raised her hands, grasping Revan's face, the soft stubble tickling her palms as she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him deeply. His reaction was immediate: his hands went to her hips, pulling her body closer to his and he leaned into the kiss, ensconcing her in an embrace of warmth, passion and strength. No words were required; she was indeed showing him what she needed. The flame between them roared to life, Revan's hands straying first, seeking to lessen the distance between his skin and hers. The Jedi did not protest, her hands mimicking the purpose of his, making short work of his tunic and exposing his broad, strong chest to her fingers. She felt his excitement jump, increasing hers through the bond they shared and Bastila gasped when Revan's rough fingers rubbed against the incredibly sensitive skin of her hips. She couldn't help but smile a little between his kisses – he had a near obsession with her hips, a fixation she did not quite understand but found almost sweet in a man like him.

Every press of her soft lips against his set Revan on fire anew, driving him further towards his ultimate goal of complete pleasure with this woman he needed in so many ways. Focused solely on this end, Revan did not pay much heed to how most of their clothes came to cover the floor and not their bodies. With a deep, chest-reverberating growl, he grasped Bastila by the backside and lifted her up easily, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Her gasp against his lips when her core settled firmly against his hard arousal excited him more and his mouth moved to linger at her regal throat, feeling the hammering of her pulse, feeling how affected Bastila was as well. She held on to him tightly, enjoying every second of Revan's warm, firm skin against hers, the feeling of something so virile and male pushed against her feminine form, focused on her and only her. It amazed her every time he got like this, utterly and completely consumed by her; it was almost too much for her body to take, the full intensity of the Dark Lord and his passions.

That was what made it so addictive.

Every time was a sense of pure oblivion, a feeling of pushing her body to the very limits and not being able to ever do so again – yet he managed to bring her there over and over.

Often, she wondered if this was normal for lovemaking, wondered what would make it less intense than what she experienced with Revan. She wondered if every woman that had been with him had felt this way, or if she was experiencing a special side of him that allowed her such pleasurable chaos. Bastila wanted answers to these questions that burned in her mind but she was afraid to ask, afraid she would not like the truth.

Revan must have sensed her mind wandering because he brought her back to the present by swiping his warm, wet tongue against one of her sensitive nipples. Groaning in pleasure, she buried her fingers in his thick, soft hair, her back against his mattress now, his huge form looming above her. As he had the times before, Revan drew out of her pleasure Bastila was almost unaware she could feel, his attentive nature coming to fruition in times like this, making sure he did not neglect a single inch of her. Though she knew it was a false emotion, Bastila could not deny she felt loved in these moments. The pure and focused attention left her buzzing with pleasure and fulfillment knowing she was, even for a short time, the utmost center of Revan's universe.

Bastila did not let him get away with making her lose her mind, however. As fascinated with her body as the Dark Lord was, so Bastila was awed by his. Never before had she been given the chance to explore a man fully like Revan allowed in moments like these, and each time, she took complete hold of the opportunities afforded her. Curious by nature, she allowed her desire to know and learn loose when Revan's body was hers to discover.

He resisted her efforts sometimes, gently halting her or directing her hands elsewhere, resuming control of the situation before she could get too far. This time, Bastila was determined to know him how she wanted. His nuzzling on her stomach felt wonderful, but she firmly put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. Revan listened to her silent direction and lifted his head, gazing at her curiously, his eyes fixed to hers. Instants like these let Bastila know Revan's connection with her was more than lust; that he could hold her gaze when she was nearly naked convinced her of this. Sitting up some to continue pushing him back, Bastila stopped when the Dark Lord was kneeling, torso upright, looking down upon her with those burning jade eyes of his that she loved so much. Laying back slowly, Bastila let her eyes wander over his form, her hands following her gaze. Fingers traced scars on his skin, the dips and rises of his muscular body, the intricate design of the tattoo on his left arm, shoulder and pectoral. Having a moment of mischief, Bastila thumbed the nipple enclosed in ink and smirked at Revan when he grunted at her, twitching slightly. Her hands dipped lower, running down his hard, toned stomach, to his narrow hips – she paused and chuckled softly.

Revan's brows furrowed. "What is so funny?" he asked, voice calm, confident, but Bastila could feel the wariness twinge their bond.

"These," she murmured, fingers playing over his hips. "Narrow, all the better to fit between my legs, remember?"

The Dark Lord smirked. "I do, and they fit perfectly," he rumbled, making to lean down again. Bastila stopped him with a palm pressed firmly against the middle of his chest.

"I am not finished with you," she stated matter-of-factly.

Intrigued, Revan slowly returned to where he had been before and watched Bastila beneath him once more. Hands once again on his hips, she delved lower, her curiosity drawing her to the bulge in his tight undergarments. It was a bulge that had brought her amazing pleasure, but one she had never been given a chance to fully explore. Bastila could feel Revan's patience growing thin; he wanted to resume control of the situation. Hooking her fingers into his undergarment, she pulled it down and freed him from the confines of the cloth. There was a small tremor in their bond – being naked did not perturb Revan, that was not the source of the uncertainty. She wondered what was.

Softly, Bastila wrapped her hand around his firm manhood, surprised at the texture of the skin there: it was much softer than she expected. Revan's body tensed when she touched him, but nothing more. Wondering, her hands moved over him, feeling everything until the Dark Lord spoke.

"Why do you feel the need to inspect me?"

Bastila looked up sharply, broken out of her reverie. "Why do you feel the need to inspect _me_?" she returned, watching him smirk.

"My form is not a work of art, nor a seductive figure like yours. I am a man. I am sharp angles and harsh lines."

"I want to know you," the young woman murmured.

Patience at an end, Revan leaned down and settled on top of her, biting her earlobe softly. "The inside of your body knows me," he rumbled in her ear, easily removing the last bit of clothing she had, rendering her naked to him. Bastila involuntarily held her breath when she felt Revan's form slide down, her eyes screwing shut tightly at his warm breath skittering over her sensitive inner thigh. Her soft gasp broke the silence when his tongue parted her core, hot pleasure blooming in her hips, centered where his tongue laved.

"Revan…"

His name was a statement, a plea, a question all at once. The Dark Lord did not heed it, his will dominant to that of hers. Every slide, flick and swathe of his tongue was designed to pleasure the woman beneath him and he did not cease in his pursuit of her ecstasy until he heard her low groan, felt her body tense, arch and shiver, experienced the pain of her fingers pulling his hair, hard. Satisfied with his small victory over her body, Revan moved up, settling between her legs, ready to assume full and complete dominance over Bastila's form. Large hands grasping and shifting her hips, the Dark Lord took what was his, entering the Jedi with a commanding ease.

Bastila grunted, quiet, as all of her noises were, hand gripping his forearm tightly. She was not in pain; their bond told him that.

For a fractional moment, Revan felt whole. Everything was stripped away and nothing outside of him, her, and this pleasure mattered. The moment did not last. In full control of his senses once more, Revan began to move, utilizing their bond as a pleasure enhancer. She could feel his pleasure, and vice versa, and the sensation drove them irrevocably towards a sweeping end. Suddenly, Revan felt one of Bastila's hands on the back of his neck, pulling down. Opening his closed eyes, he gazed down curiously, acquiescing to her silent request. His shock increased when she leaned up slightly and met his lips, kissing him hungrily.

This was abnormal based upon the limited pattern he had observed between Bastila and himself in this situation.

Was this what she needed from him? She had kissed him in response to his command.

_Open up to me…_

The voice was Bastila's, in his mind. Open up? Why?

_Please, Revan…_

This gave him literal pause, and his rhythm faltered. He couldn't hold on to his concentration and he stopped, brows knitted in cautious confusion.

"Mmm, keep going," Bastila pleaded with him audibly, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, one hand still behind his neck, the other under his arm, fingers digging into his shoulder. Obeying the spoken command, the Dark Lord resumed the rhythm of his hips, mind churning over her other request. Open up to her? This was important to her. She never begged him otherwise – though this was not truly begging, it constituted as such for Bastila. With the utmost caution, Revan lowered a section of his walls, allowing her access if she wished. Almost immediately he felt his mind flooded with Bastila's presence and he felt his natural defenses kicking in before he realized they were unnecessary. Bastila was not smothering his mind. Instead, it felt almost as if she were cradling it with her presence.

This felt…good.

Bastila kissed him again, then, and the sensation was more intense; Revan felt more. Was this what she needed from him? Probing their bond, Revan discerned that Bastila was laid bare to him. There was nothing he could find that was being held back. This gave him a shock, followed by a feeling of suffusing warmth – she trusted him that much? Or was it simply her nature responding to the intimacy of this act? Both, he decided, hoped.

She wanted to know him, then. That was what she needed. With a low grunt, Revan dropped as much of his defenses as he could allow. It was not much, but it was a palpable change. The more of him he opened up, the more Bastila slid in effortlessly to gild and embrace his mind. Had this always been there, her support? The safety of her presence?

Her pleasure was peaking once more and the Dark Lord used that to fuel his own carnal needs, pacing himself with her. He could feel how every thrust was a small shove closer to the edge of that precipice, dangerous, yet not enough of a push – so another was required, and another, and another, taking her breath away and filling her with the sensation that she would break apart any second if she did not find release. Revan's force increased, his pace picked up, and Bastila dug her short nails into his shoulder and the back of his neck, eyes screwed shut, her breathing soft but ragged in his ear, where her mouth had migrated. The sensations were almost at a plateau and Revan shifted, his lips now pressed against her tiny ear.

"Come for me," he rumbled, words punctuated by his forceful thrusts. When this did not immediately produce the effect he desired, he snaked a hand up and lightly but firmly grasped her hair, pulling her head back a little and growling more at her. "Come for me _now_, Bastila," he ordered. The Jedi's body arched up into his and her slick insides tightened spasmodically around his manhood, the pleasure that washed through their bond blinding Revan for a few nanoseconds until his own explosive end overtook him. With a growl that started in the depth of his chest, the Dark Lord of the Sith fully claimed the woman beneath him, spilling his seed in the highest moments of his physical pleasure.

The culmination of their passion produced an almost instant soporific effect on both of them, Bastila's arms slipping from him and falling to the bed, Revan's head dipping low to rest on her shoulder while they both breathed in recovery. When he could once again move, he extricated himself from her body amidst her soft grunt of protest and laid on his back next to her, eyes closed. It wasn't long before he felt Bastila's hand on his chest, her silky hair against his arm; Revan shifted, giving her the crook of his shoulder as a pillow, curving his arm around her shoulders.

She seemed satisfied, and that pleased him, greatly – more than he had anticipated it would. His dislike of ambiguity in matters that interested him protested his lack of assurance that this was what she had wanted, but Revan refrained from asking. At his request to show him what she needed, this was what had transpired, initiated by Bastila herself. Surely this was what she had needed. If not, then she was foolish for not taking the open opportunity he had presented to her, and though Bastila was many things, 'fool' was not among the descriptors he would attach to her.

"Cold," he heard her Talravinian voice murmur, displeased.

The Dark Lord pushed the sheets of the bed down and pulled them back up, covering their bodies. He was outside of sensations such as hot and cold, lost in his mind. This did not last for long. The soft touch of Bastila's hand on his jaw and the subsequent pressure made him turn his face to look at her. Revan's expression was almost blank, mostly curious at why she was turning his head.

"Stop," the Jedi commanded, earning her one of her favorite expressions: his confused face. The way his brows drew such a quizzical line over his eyes… "Stop thinking," she clarified for him. The confusion lifted from his forehead like a stormy sky suddenly becoming placidly blue and cloud-free.

"I can't." He frowned at the rise of a single, slender brow of hers. That wasn't the answer she wanted. She was going to have to deal with it.

"Scientifically, I am aware it is impossible for your brain to stop thinking," she remarked with some sharpness, mildly annoyed. "What I am asking is that you stop over-analyzing everything, Revan. Everything is…calm. Let it be."

_That is when things can go most wrong_, he thought defensively. Though, perhaps she was right. He could let things be. Accept them. That did not mean he could not be prepared for when something went awry. Revan did not trust this moment any more than he trusted the mercy of a Krayt Dragon mother looking upon the killer of one of her fledgling offspring but he knew that he did not wish to make Bastila remarkably unhappy. Concentrating once more on the calming feeling of her presence inside of his mind acting as a silent, soft bolster, he felt some tension leave his physical form.

It had been a very long time since Revan had truly felt calm. This was as close as he had been since… He could not place any distinct memory in which calmness was the suffusing feeling except one. If he chose to let his mind dally in such images, he knew he would upset the woman laying with him.

"What…?"

Too late. Revan frowned. _Dammit._

"Revan, why…?" Bastila questioned gently, propping herself up on an elbow. The Dark Lord of the Sith didn't answer her at first. The way her copper-laced brunette hair fell fascinated him and he chose to indulge his attention there for some seconds. Finally, he blinked a few times and sighed, eyes meeting hers. "I was trying to remember the last time I felt calm. That was the memory I could retrieve," the man explained. It was truthful. Clinical, but truthful.

Bastila looked so very sad at that moment that Revan fully believed he experienced her sorrow as if it were his own. "You were at peace with your decision," she said, her observational skills stunning him yet again. "It was what you wanted."

Every part of him screamed to tell her, to explain to her what had pushed him there, what had made him pull that trigger, what had made him want that sort of escape so deeply. Revan remained silent. Leaning down the short distance they were apart, Bastila kissed the conflicted and tormented man with the utmost softness. He deserved it, after all he had been through, some measure of gentleness.

Searching, his gaze asked her countless silent questions before his large, warm hand nestled itself behind her head and pulled her to him once more.

(END OF SCENE)


End file.
